Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection Page 16

  Having danced to her parents’ tune the previous two years, Lydia was frustrated with both of them for their selfishness and their manipulation of her, whilst also deeply upset that they seemed to care so little for her that they did not even notice what she did or where she went—unless, of course, they required her for their own purposes. The ball this evening would undoubtedly force her to remain in the shadows or standing with the wallflowers, as her mother would almost immediately be caught up with her own acquaintances and her father would disappear to the card room within the first half an hour. As she did not have a chaperone, she would have to linger near her mother, who would not pay her a jot of attention. The evening would drag on, each minute going slower than the previous one, until finally, she would be granted the sweet blessing of returning home.

  Something dripped onto her cheek and, to her surprise, Lydia realized that she was crying. She wiped it away quickly, not wanting the maid to see her so overly emotional. This was something she was used to by now, was she not? Why, then, was she so upset about what she knew to be the way of things?

  Things will never change if you continue on as you are.

  Lydia sniffed and pulled out a lace handkerchief to dab at her eyes. That held some truth, she thought to herself, realizing slowly that if she continued to simply accept that this was the way of things, continued to behave in such a flawless, proper manner, then nothing would change and she would find herself here again the following Season, until she was nothing but a spinster who would still be forced to return to London for the summer so that her parents might find their own enjoyments. If she did what was expected of her, which was to continue to linger near her mother and not seek out introductions to those she did not know, then all that would occur would be a few months of lingering shadows, of disappointment, sadness, and boredom. Was that to be her lot? Was that all she was willing to achieve? Her parents did not care what she did or who she met, just so long as she was not met with scandal, so surely there must be some way for her to change her situation and circumstances even if it was only in a small way?

  Looking back at her reflection with a clear gaze, Lydia took in her appearance. Her cheeks were pale, her light blue eyes holding an obvious pain. When she smiled, it looked as though she were forcing it, for it did not light up her gaze as she hoped. Her long, dark tresses tumbled down her back, not yet held up tightly in some ornate fashion. Her maid would do that soon enough.

  Was she pretty? There was certainly nothing about her that Lydia believed would instantly capture the attention of any gentleman, for whilst she was not overly plain, she was not a diamond of the first water. Her charms were few, for whilst she had good conversation, she was not particularly used to speaking at length with gentlemen of the beau monde. It had occurred on one or two previous occasions, but Lydia had, unfortunately, had her mouth go dry and her throat fill with dust as she had tried to make conversation. It had been most frustrating.

  Sighing to herself, she pinched her cheeks hard, hoping to flood them with color. Looking at herself again, Lydia considered whether or not she looked any better and came to the conclusion that a little color in her face was better than none at all. Her eyes were still lackluster, however, and her smile did not come easily to her face.

  “This evening will be different,” she told herself, trying to summon the inner courage that would be needed to go about matters differently. “You shall speak to ladies and to gentlemen, you shall dance and you shall smile and laugh. What else is there for you but the darkness?”

  The dark shadows of each and every ballroom she had attended had become something of a familiarity to Lydia. Her mother did not notice where Lydia went and skulking back into the darkness had become something of a sanctuary for Lydia. It had meant she would not be noticed by another living soul and, for the most part, that had suited her fairly well. It meant that she behaved entirely within the bounds of propriety whilst saving herself the embarrassment of being noticed as a wallflower.

  “But no longer!”

  The thump of her fist on the dressing table startled her with the sound it made, although it also began to fill Lydia with a deep determination that flooded her soul. Her chin lifted, her eyes began to sparkle and, as the maid hurried in, murmuring an apology for being late, Lydia let herself smile. Things were to change for her. No longer would she be the obedient, proper Miss Whitaker. Instead, she would go about her business as a refined yet determined young lady, who did not care much for the intricacies that came with polite society. She would make herself out to be independent, even though she was still in her father and mother’s care, and in doing so, might find a change of happiness that would bring a new brightness to her future.

  “I want you to ensure that you do your very best this evening, Millie,” she told her maid, who looked up at her, startled. “The pearls will be threaded through my hair in some sort of fashion, I think.” She arched one eyebrow at the maid, who began to nod fervently. “And I shall have the cream satin gown.”

  The maid hesitated, then turned and disappeared into the small dressing room before emerging with the gown in question. Lydia nodded satisfactorily, seeing the maid’s eyes flicker with surprise but giving no explanation as to her choice. The cream satin gown had been declared improper by Lydia, who had disliked that it showed so much of her décolletage. Lady Templeton had trilled a laugh and stated that it was the highest fashion and it was to be expected that a gown should have a low bodice, but Lydia had not accepted this and had refused to wear it.

  Until this evening.

  “I shall be entirely transformed,” she told herself calmly, seeing a spark in her eyes that had not been there before. “The ton shall know Miss Lydia Whitaker and no longer think her nothing more than a flickering shadow.” A smile caught her lips, her cheeks flooding with color of their own accord.

  This evening was going to be very different.

  1

  “Good evening, Lord Ancrum.”

  Joseph, Earl of Ancrum, said nothing. Instead, he bowed over Lady Greaves’ hand and prayed that his notoriety had died down somewhat since the disaster that had been last year’s Season. He had been quite foolish and had behaved in a most improper and hurtful manner towards a Miss Ophelia Grey. Of course, that had all come to a swift end after his actions and he had lost a great deal of money in the process.

  He had disliked losing money, although it did not impact his estate too greatly. More had been the embarrassment and mortification of losing such a sum to a gentleman he disliked intensely. Of course, he had also been ashamed of his own drunken behavior, which had been the only reason he had made such a ridiculous wager in the first place. Since reflecting on all that had occurred, he had therefore decided that he would not allow himself to act so foolishly again. And it would begin with an attempt to recover his reputation amongst the ton as much as he could.

  “Lord Ancrum.”

  He stiffened, seeing the coy smile on another lady’s face as she drew near to greet him.

  “Lady Starling,” he murmured, aware of how heat climbed up his spine as he bowed in greeting. “How good to see you again.”

  Lady Starling was a rich young widow whom Joseph had known for some years. She made playthings of the gentlemen of the ton but, as yet, Joseph had not been one of her chosen toys. His stomach tightened as he saw the way she smiled at him, her dark blue eyes fixed upon his. Her golden hair was delicately pulled away from her face, held back gently and seeming to give her a halo that only added to her beauty.

  “You have returned to society, then,” Lady Starling murmured, her eyes flickering over his form as though she wanted to be assured that he was, in truth, the gentleman she knew. “Have you thought of taking a wife?”

  Joseph hesitated, finding that he did not wish to speak to Lady Starling of all that was in his mind to do. “I seek only to prove myself to society once more, Lady Starling,” he told her, seeing the amused expression on her face. “My reputation has suffered s
omewhat of late, although I can only lay the blame for such a thing at my own feet.”

  Lady Starling laughed and tapped his arm with her folded fan in a playful fashion. “Well, if you will attempt to go around kissing young ladies so that you might win a wager, then yes, I fear that your reputation will suffer somewhat,” she replied teasingly. “Although it is not as though you have been spurned from society, Lord Ancrum.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “There are those amongst us who believe you to be something of a rake.” Arching one brow, she leaned back and looked at him steadily. “And that is not always a poor reflection on a gentleman’s character, Lord Ancrum. It might be seen by some as an accolade!” She laughed softly, her eyes glinting with mirth. “What say you to that?”

  Joseph sighed inwardly, frustrated that, already, the conversation had returned to his past mistakes. No, he wanted to say, he did not wish to be called a rake nor did he want society as a whole to think of him as one, but it seemed he was not to get what he wished. There was no one to blame but himself, of course, for attempting to kiss a lady in full view of the beau monde was, of course, the action of a fool and could well be construed that he was nothing more than a rake. He had never had any intention of marrying the lady he had attempted to kiss but had done so simply to mar her reputation and, therefore, ensure that he won the wager.

  “I am no rake, Lady Starling,” he told her emphatically. “And I intend to make sure that, this Season, I prove myself not to be so.”

  Lady Starling’s gaze became a trifle more serious. “How disappointing,” she said lightly, now putting her hand on his arm instead of her fan. “I had hoped that you were something of a rake, Lord Ancrum.” Her voice became singsong, her playful words hitting Joseph so hard that he felt as though he had been punched in the gut. Clearing his throat, he quickly placed his hands behind his back and tried to smile, which, given that he could not find anything to say to such a thing, was the only thing he could do. His heart began to quicken with the look in her eyes, knowing full well what it was that she was suggesting he pursue.

  “One does not need to be a rake to enjoy the company and the delights offered by another,” Lady Starling continued softly, her eyes gleaming as if he were the prize she had been searching for. “I shall watch you carefully these next few weeks, Lord Ancrum. Mayhap there is a chance that our acquaintance will grow.” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away from him, her steps slow and yet determined. The other guests stepped out of her way as she moved, clearly aware of just how much gravitas she held. Joseph let out a long breath, unable to keep his eyes from her. Lady Starling, it seemed, was considering him to be her next plaything and Joseph found himself overcome with delight at the prospect. He was no rake, no, but it was as Lady Starling said: one did not need to be a rake in order to enjoy the company of another. Particularly if it was warm company.

  “You appear to be quite delighted with yourself, I must say.”

  Joseph turned his head to see none other than Lord Irwin approaching him, a broad grin on his face.

  “Irwin,” Joseph exclaimed, shaking his friend’s hand fervently. “Good evening to you.”

  “Good evening,” Lord Irwin replied, his grin never slipping. “I did not expect to see you here this evening, although I am glad of it.”

  Joseph chuckled ruefully. “I believe my notoriety had been the cause of my invitation,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But I am determined to prove myself to the beau monde so that they do not continue to consider me to be either a rake or unworthy of their company.” He grimaced, the truth of the matter hitting him full force. “And I have become aware that I must wed. The estate is doing well and I must therefore produce an heir.”

  Lord Irwin laughed as though this was something mirthful. “It is not as bad as all that!” he exclaimed, evidently seeing Joseph’s dislike of the married state. “You know that I myself am wed now, do you not?”

  Joseph nodded. “I do,” he replied quickly, recalling that Lord Irwin had become engaged last Season. “And does it go well?”

  “Wonderfully,” Lord Irwin replied with seeming honesty. “Of course, it does help if one has a fondness for one’s spouse. Thankfully, I seem to have been blessed with a wife that truly cares for me and, indeed, over the past year, I have discovered that I myself have a very great affection for her.”

  Joseph cleared his throat, not quite certain what he was to say to this.

  “But you shall simply be seeking a bride that does not care about your scandalous behavior last Season, I presume,” Lord Irwin finished, clearly aware that all this talk of affection and matrimony was making Joseph uncomfortable. “Although I should say that talking at length to Lady Starling will do your reputation no good.”

  Sighing heavily, Joseph rubbed at his forehead, a pinched expression on his face. “You do not hold back, do you?” he muttered, feeling a trifle frustrated over Lord Irwin’s blunt manner. “Yes, I am aware that conversing with Lady Starling is not to be seen as a wise behavior, but I had very little choice. It was she who approached me and she who has suggested that—” He stopped dead, realizing what he had been about to say and seeing Lord Irwin’s answering frown.

  “Suggest what, might I ask?” Lord Irwin enquired, his frown deepening. “Do not tell me that she is considering you for her next victim, Lord Ancrum. It is not as though she is seeking a new husband for herself, which—”

  “I should not consider her even if she was seeking to wed,” Joseph interrupted, hoping that this would allow him to escape answering Lord Irwin’s previous suggestion, but Lord Irwin only frowned.

  “It would not be a good match,” Lord Irwin stated darkly. “Lady Starling is well known to be… rather open with her favors as I am certain you well know. To take her as a wife would be utterly disastrous and scandal would dog your family line for generations to come.”

  Closing his eyes, Joseph let out a long breath. “I am fully aware of that, Irwin. As I have said, I would never consider Lady Starling to be a suitable bride, so you need not have any concern in that regard.” He was doing his utmost not to become irritated with his friend, but the way that Lord Irwin continued to speak against Lady Starling in such determined tones was becoming quite maddening.

  “You will consider her then, for another position,” Lord Irwin stated, his cynicism evident in every single word and in every single look. “I hardly think that is wise, Lord Ancrum.”

  Joseph hesitated, then shrugged. “I have not yet decided whether I would accept her attentions, even if she was to offer such a delight to me,” he replied as nonchalantly as he could. “Although I will say that I was flattered by her attentions.”

  Lord Irwin scoffed at this. “Of course you were,” he stated, slicing the air with his hand. “That is precisely what she wants and what she uses. Her own reputation is one of note, and most gentlemen trip over their own feet in order to have her give them even a second glance. But not so with you.” He shook his head and Joseph felt a slight embarrassment begin to grow within him. “She has chosen you from amongst the ton and has decided to seek you out, instead of you pursuing her. Therefore, you are flattered by her attentions and begin to hope that she might be considering you for her future…. endeavors, shall we say.” Lord Irwin paused for a moment, making Joseph realize just how much of the truth was in Lord Irwin’s words. “She has no expectation that you will refuse her, does she?”

  “No, of course, not,” Joseph replied quickly. “I should truly struggle to refuse someone such as Lady Starling.”

  “Unless, in doing so and in denying yourself the pleasures of what was to come, you realize that it is for your best,” Lord Irwin said emphatically. “You realize that you must refuse her, so that your reputation can recover, so that society does not believe you to be the rake that they now consider you and so that you can find a suitable bride thereafter, just as you have intended.” He lifted one eyebrow questioningly. “Or do you think you will be able to find a gentl
eman willing to give you his daughter’s hand in marriage when you are known to be spending a good deal of time with Lady Starling?”

  Finding his frustration and his embarrassment mingling together, Joseph let out a long breath, raised his gaze, and shook one finger in Lord Irwin’s direction. “You are rather irritating with your sound advice, old boy, I must say.”

  Appearing relieved that Joseph was, it seemed, listening to his warnings about Lady Starling, Lord Irwin merely shrugged. “I do it for your best,” he reminded Joseph, who had no other choice but to begrudgingly accept this from him. “You are trying to restore your reputation, not ruin it further.”

  “And having an intimacy with Lady Starling will ruin me further,” Joseph muttered, passing a hand over his eyes and letting out a long, slow breath. His delight over Lady Starling’s suggestion that he might become closer acquainted with her began to evaporate as he accepted that to do so would only cement his reputation as a supposed rake, which would mean that he would struggle to find a suitable bride when the time came. Lord Irwin was, as much as Joseph hated to admit it, wise in his speech and Joseph knew he could not ignore his friend’s advice.

  “I speak as your friend, Ancrum,” Lord Irwin replied quietly, as if he feared that Joseph was going to be offended by what he had said. “That is all.”

  “I know, I know,” Joseph intoned heavily. “You have saved me from myself, it seems, Lord Irwin. If only you had advised me so last year, then I might not have behaved as terribly as I did!”

  Lord Irwin chuckled, the seriousness disappearing from his expression. “I was much too caught up with Miss Lucas, as you well know.”